We drove down Ruby Road the other day to the west, off the pavement and along the border, through canyons and valleys. Beautiful country. We passed the historic ghost town of Ruby, a one time mining community in about 1903. The gate is always closed and locked. But, not this time. We backed up, read the historic sign, which says "Do not enter if gate is closed". The gate was wide open. In we went.
If you ever have the opportunity to tour Ruby, skip it. It is nothing but junk. Nothing restored, nothing worth restoring. The dirt road ends at the mine tailings which spread out like an unusually hard packed white sand beach, right on the side of a lake. The lake is beautiful, blue and clear. No algae grows in it. No water birds wade in the shallows. The only life visible was an old hippy who peered out at us from an old, fallen in house on the edge of the tailings. He had a camper and a picnic table set up on the white "sands."
This seemed too strange. We turned around and headed out. Half way back to the gate we were stopped by a man in a very old pick-up truck. Probably newer than 1903, but apparently exposed at some point to acid rain as all the paint was gone and the metal was rusting away--hard to date the vehicle accurately.
A man jumped out and came over to the car window. He was a skinny, wiry man wearing only a ragged pair of cut-offs. He was the color and texture of hardwood, maybe mahogany, left much too long in the sun. But most impressive were his hair and mustache. He had long, gray rasta hair.
Very very rasta--lots of it going about halfway down his skinny back.
His mustache was huge, also rasta.
I was amazed, mesmerized. The thought that this creature had at one time been someone's round, pink baby boy flitted through my mind, but the long fuzz growing across his shoulders and down his bony spine pushed that thought aside. A modern day Robinson Crusoe shipwrecked on an island of his own making?
I am afraid I stared as he ranted at us about trespassing and ordered us out--OUT and don't ever come back.
I wonder if repeat offenders end up at the bottom of the lake.
Scary thought!
We enjoyed a nice ride home.
